


A Visitor to Mansfield Park

by pir8grl



Category: Doctor Who, Mansfield Park (2007)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-15
Updated: 2016-07-15
Packaged: 2018-07-24 02:13:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7489371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pir8grl/pseuds/pir8grl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Crossover with the 2007 version of Mansfield Park, starring Billie Piper, for fairly obvious reasons.  Separate, disconnected scenes, because I wanted to play.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I. For Edmund, this takes place after the events of the movie, and supposes that Fanny has since passed away. For the Doctor and Rose, late season 2.

Rose and the Doctor pelted down the lane hand in hand, laughing in the foolish and open way of lovers - even if that love be apparent to all but themselves. 

“You’re a rubbish driver! You might have picked us better weather!” Rose gasped out between giggles. She tried in vain to shake the water from her long, clinging skirts. 

“It’s England,” he replied breezily. “What’d you expect?”

The pair stilled as a crack of lightning brightened the sky, a little too close for comfort, followed by a deafening crash of thunder. The wind was picking up, as well, and the Doctor saw Rose shiver, despite her attempt at nonchalance. He wondered uneasily just how far they’d managed to wander from the TARDIS. 

“Hello!” a man’s voice cried out from the dooryard of a cozy-looking house at the end of the lane. “Come inside, man! It’s not safe to be about in this!” 

The Doctor tucked Rose in close against his side. “Run for it?” he suggested. 

“Try and stop me,” Rose replied, eyes twinkling as she gathered up her wet skirts to what surely would be considered an indecent length in this time and place. 

They ran towards the house where a pale, dark haired man was beckoning them. He waved them quickly inside, barring the door against the storm. 

“Edmund Bertram, at your service. Pray, do come inside to the fire. It’s not fit for man nor beast out there.” 

“Thank you, sir,” the Doctor replied cheerfully. “I’m the Doctor, and this is Rose Tyler.” 

“Doctor Tyler, Mrs. Tyler, you are most welcome.” 

Rose extricated herself from the Doctor’s arm and coat and turned to face their host with a brilliant smile. 

To their surprise, Edmund’s face grew even more pale, and his eyes widened. After a long, rather awkward moment, he collected himself. “Pray, forgive me, madam. It’s just…you are the very image of my late wife. Are you perchance connected to the Prices of Plymouth?” 

“Uh…no…,” Rose stammered. “The Prentices -”

“Of London,” the Doctor finished for her. 

“Yes, of course,” Edmund murmured, with a slight inclination of his head. “Do forgive me,” he reiterated. 

“There’s nothing to forgive,” Rose assured him with a sweet smile. 

“You’re soaked,” Edmund noted, ringing a small bell. “Mary,” he addressed the maid who appeared, “Do find Mrs. Tyler something dry to wear. Surely something of Mrs. Bertram’s will suit?” 

With a wide eyed glance between her master and Rose, Mary bobbed a curtsy and led Rose from the room. 

“Please, be seated, Doctor Tyler,” Edmund invited, gesturing to a chair before the fire. “What may I offer you? Tea? Brandy, perhaps?” 

“Tea would be lovely,” the Doctor replied. 

“Do forgive my manners,” Edmund said again, after quietly giving the order for tea. “It’s just…your wife’s appearance is such a shock.” 

The Doctor didn’t even bother to address the notion that he and Rose were married. It wouldn’t do to dispute the subject, not in the countryside of early nineteenth century England. And he could hardly blame the poor man’s reaction. He shuddered to think what state he’d be in if he ever -

“Here, let me show you,” Edmund was saying, startling the Doctor from his reverie. 

The Doctor took the small locket carefully. His hearts stuttered for a second in his chest. Edmund’s wife was a near exact reflection of his Rose. The tiny portrait perfectly captured the laughing eyes and sweet smile, framed by unruly golden curls. “I’m so terribly sorry for your loss,” he murmured, handing the small treasure back. 

“If I may be so impertinent, how long have you and Mrs. Tyler been married?” 

“Oh, well, you know how time flies. Sometimes it seems like forever, other times just the blink of an eye.” 

“Indeed. Fanny and I were raised together, you see. I thought…it seemed…that we’d have forever. Forgive me if I make free to say - it is quite apparent that you and Mrs. Tyler share such a bond as my Fanny and I. Treasure each moment, for we never know what is to come.” 

“Indeed,” the Doctor agreed quietly. He was troubled by the increasingly frequent hints that something was coming - something that might separate him from Rose. 

Edmund got quickly to his feet as Rose reentered the room, snug in a woolen gown and shawl. 

“Thank you,” she said, smiling shyly and gesturing at the clothes. “I’ll change just as soon as my own dress dries.” 

“Not at all, my dear Mrs. Tyler. Pray be seated here, it’s the warmest place. I’ll order a light meal, shall I? Soup and toast, perhaps?” 

“That sounds lovely,” Rose replied gently, “if it’s no trouble?” 

“None whatsoever,” Edmund assured her, hastily exiting the room. The young man was clearly uncomfortable in Rose’s presence. 

“He’s so sad,” Rose noted. 

“He showed me a miniature of his wife. She did look just like you.” 

“The poor man.” She snuck a side-wise glance at the Doctor. The firelight played over his delightfully mussed up hair, and the fine lines of tension around his eyes. “Doctor, I told you - I’m not goin’ anywhere. You’re stuck with me. Forever.” 

The Doctor turned to face Rose and reached for her hand. “That’s what they thought.” 

His words brought Rose a shudder of foreboding that chilled her more deeply than the storm outside. She gripped his hand tightly, and looked at him with troubled eyes, but the Doctor’s ancient gaze was focused on the fire.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> II. For the Doctor, this takes place after The Runaway Bride, but before he meets Martha. For Fanny and Edmund, sometime shortly after the events of the movie.

The Doctor wandered the dusty country lane, not really seeing anything. Rural England had seemed as good a place to lose himself as any, but it wasn’t really working. Instead of lush, green, fields and tumbling streams and tall, stately, trees, all he could see was a blank, white wall. Instead of the rush of water, and lilting birdsong, all he could hear was the howl of the void, and Rose’s terrified scream as she fell. 

He was slowly going mad without her. Donna had been right, he realized, he did need someone. Someone to stop his slow descent into madness. Someone to distract his mind from seeing images of Rose _**everywhere.**_ Even here, in nineteenth century England, he thought he saw - 

And then he was running full tilt down the lane and into the yard of a snug brick house. “Rose!” he cried, startling a lady in a neat print gown and linen apron. She dropped her basket of lavender as he reached out eagerly, catching her hand in one of his own and tangling the other in her unruly golden curls. “Rose,” he breathed reverently. “It’s you.” 

Abruptly, the young lady shook herself out of his grasp, and landed a stinging slap to his cheek. “Unhand me, sir. I do not know you.” 

“Rose,” he entreated, “Rose, it’s me. Are you all right? How did you get here?” 

“Edmund! Edmund, come quickly!” the woman cried, stepping back from the Doctor’s eagerly grasping hands. “My name is Fanny,” she informed him. “Fanny Price…I mean, Bertram. Sorry, not used to that yet. My husband is at home and he‘ll be here directly.” 

The Doctor’s mind whirled. Husband? “Rose,” he said slowly, “Don’t you know me?” 

“I do not, sir, and my name is not Rose. Are you quite well?” she asked, not unkindly. 

“But you look…you even sound like her. I thought… Sorry. I’m so sorry.” A thought occurred to him. “Are you a Prentice by any chance? Or a Tyler? You could be a relation. That might explain the resemblance.” 

“My family name is Price, sir, now Bertram. Perhaps you should sit down in the shade. I think you might be ill.” 

“I…no, thank you. I’m so sorry. I should go.” Head hanging, the Doctor walked slowly back to the gate. He turned once, and looked back over his shoulder, rubbing his sore cheek. “You’ve got a slap just like her mother.” 

“Thank you…I think. Are you certain you will not stop for a moment? My husband is the vicar, and people often find his counsel comforting.” 

The Doctor smiled sadly, then turned back to walk his lonely path. 

“Whatever is the matter, my dear?” Edmund asked, coming around the corner of the house. “Who was that man?” 

“Some poor fellow, newly widowed, I think, and half out of his mind with grief. He mistook me for someone else.” 

“Ought we to send for the constable?” Edmund wondered. 

“No,” Fanny said quietly, “I do not think him mad, just heartbroken. I think perhaps time is the best healer for such things.” She couldn’t help casting one last look after the tall man in his rather strange apparel, but he’d disappeared down the lane. She hoped he’d find some peace someday.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> III. Shall we have a bit of fluff to make up for the first two parts? For the Doctor and Rose, this takes place sometime during season 2. For Fanny and Edmund, sometime shortly after the events of the movie.

Fanny Bertram, nee Price, checked her appearance in the looking glass one last time, and carefully smoothed the soft shell-pink silk of her gown. “Edmund, do you think Sir Thomas will be angry?” 

“Whatever for, my dear?”

“My dress.” 

“Isn’t it the one he ordered for you, for your birthday?” 

“Yes. He said I could have it made up just as I liked.” 

“And you look very lovely,” her husband assured her. 

“The style is last season’s, but it looks well on me. And I did not think it was quite right for a parson’s wife to be so very gaudy.”

“Your gown is very beautiful, my dearest, and it suits you impeccably. No true gentleman could dare to say otherwise.” 

“Thank you, Edmund,” Fanny replied, with a sweet smile. 

***

“Doctor,” Rose muttered out the side of her mouth, “is my dress all right?” 

“It’s brilliant,” he replied automatically. 

And it was. The TARDIS had outdone herself this time, providing a dainty confection of ivory silk, with an overlay of sheer silk in a soft shade of shell-pink, with an embroidered sash. Rose had been delighted with her reflection. 

“You looked so pleased back in the TARDIS.” 

“I was - I am - s’just…it looks a bit fussy, compared to some of the others. Don’t we want to blend in, seein’ as how we’re not actually on the guest list?” 

“Live a little, Rose Tyler! If we wanted to blend in, we’d have -”

“Snuck in the back, dressed as the help?”

“Exactamundo. And don’t ever let me say that again. My point is, this time, we walked in through the front door, and you got to wear a pretty dress.” 

“Although you still haven’t bothered to change.” 

“And why should I? No one’s going to notice me, not with you around.” 

“Was that an actual compliment?” 

“Could be. Ooh! Nibbles! Shall we?” 

“You go. I’m a bit afraid to try and walk and carry a plate in this thing.” 

“All right,” the Doctor replied cheerfully. “I’ll get enough for both of us.” 

Rise cringed slightly. Although history wasn’t her forte, she had the distinct impression that shoveling food into one’s mouth with gusto would _**not**_ be appreciated in this setting. She was so intent on watching the Doctor, that she didn’t notice the fashionably dressed young woman who approached her. 

“Fanny! How well you look! I see married life agrees with you.” 

Rose blinked in surprise, trying to figure out what she could say that wouldn’t give herself away. 

“Is that the gown Sir Thomas gave you for your birthday? How very lovely! And quite the latest fashion. Did you order it in London?” 

“Er…yes,” Rose stammered. 

The young lady slipped her arm through Rose’s. “I’m very cross that you didn’t tell me you were in town. We must let bygones be bygones, don’t you think?” 

“I…” 

“Oh, they’re serving ices! Quite the innovation out in the country. Shall we go sample them?” 

“No…thank you. I…I’m afraid of spilling something on my dress.” 

The lady frowned slightly, and moved off. Rose quickly ducked behind a pillar, hoping to avoid any more awkward encounters. Unfortunately, she was not looked where she went and bumped into a gentleman in full formal attire. 

“Mrs. Bertram, might I have the honor of this dance?” the gentleman asked amiably. 

“Oh…I…ah - don’t know this one. Sorry!” Rose mumbled, hastily backing away. 

“Of course. But you must save me a space on your card. They shall play Portsmouth soon, I believe.” 

Rose nodded, having no clue what Portsmouth might be, in the context of a ballroom. “Would you excuse me? I need to powder my nose.” With that she slipped away behind a large floral display, leaving her prospective partner to puzzle over the strange turn of phrase.

***

Sir Thomas tried to maintain his equanimity as conversation buzzed about him. Who had invited Miss Crawford, anyway? Hadn’t they endured quite enough of her? Not to speak of her brother. 

_“I think it’s perfectly shameful that she had to wait so long to have her first silk gown.”_

_“And the very height of fashion!”_

_“You don’t think it’s a bit ostentatious for a vicar’s wife?”_

_“She always seemed so modest.”_

He caught a glimpse of pink skirts and golden curls. Whatever was Fanny doing, hiding away in a corner? And who was that strangely attired person she was speaking with? This simply would not do. He rose and straightened his coat, intending to have a word with his daughter-in-law. 

“Father!” Edmund greeted him. “Fanny wanted to show you her new dress.” 

Fanny was on his arm, charming in a modestly cut silk gown with elbow sleeves and a tucker of filmy lace. She curtsied slightly, then stepped close to kiss his cheek. 

“You look very lovely, my dear.” 

“Thank you, Sir Thomas. I know it is not quite the latest style, but the material is so very beautiful, I did not think it needed much ornamentation.” 

Sir Thomas smiled warmly. He should know better by now than to listen to anything any of the Crawfords might have to say. 

“Quite right, my dear. You have a very discerning eye for such things. I am only sorry it took me so long to realize it.” Sir Thomas scanned the room again, but the mysterious couple seemed to have vanished. 

***

Rose and the Doctor sat outside in the garden with their pilfered plate of treats. 

“Quite a nice party,” the Doctor remarked around a mouthful of cake. 

“Like somethin‘ out of one of Mum‘s Mills and Boon novels,” Rose agreed. 

“And did you use that fan to flirt with any mysterious gentlemen?” 

“I used that fan to keep from faintin.’ Besides, be a bit difficult to find a bloke more mysterious than the one who brought me here!”


End file.
